There Be Witches
by shewhowearsglasses
Summary: In which Dean isn't as straight as he wants to be, and Cas has some ass-kicking to do. Dean/Castiel
1. Part One

**Dedicated to those affected by the massacre in Connecticut, my heart goes out to everyone involved. It's so tragic, I'm having trouble expressing how painful it is to watch. It was so close to Christmas! Ah. I can't discuss this anymore, lest I start crying again. Point is: my thoughts and prayers are with those affected.**

**I accidentally put a tad of humor in it towards the end. Unrelated: I'm starting another AU series, guys! Not daily, not weekly. Basically, I'm posting new chapters whenever the fuck I want. Some may be related, most not. I might continue your favorite oneshots here. Who knows, yeah?**

**Also, warning: Cas is more Endverse than anything. He's scary and kinda dark. Vulgar too, no Canon Cas in this shit I got going.**

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**There Be Witches**

Witches were tricky bastards. They fucking snuck up on ya when you weren't looking then boom! Dead. Dean knew, he had experience. The fucking assholes had killed his mother when he was just 9, and had almost taken his brother too. If it weren't for his heroic father... who'd ended up dying a drunken mess, but let's not count that, yeah? Just remember at one point, John Winchester was a caring father who hunted witches better than anyone around.

Yeah, that was John Winchester.

All the other hunters knew Dean by that very name: Winchester. But, he never got called by it, cause Dean was a fool. John was the hero, Dean is just the follow-up they get when the big dog goes down.

Dean isn't the real deal, not by a long shot.

At least, that's what the rumor says.

Sam Winchester, Dean's clumsy monster of a little brother, knows otherwise. He knows Dean is the best guy when it comes to a knife fight, the man could fucking turn the situation in his favor in under 6 minutes flat. Whether surrounded by one or twenty witches. He knows that Dean is as graceful as that pretty ballerina with the sparkly eyes that winks at him after class. Dean isn't the tippy-toes dancey kind of graceful, but he can sure move in a fight.

He can make any poison you can name with his eyes closed, hands tied. The guy is better than John was in his prime, but no one seems to remember John as anything but the Hero who Died. They need to clear their heads of his heroism and remember the risks he took. The father he was, the father he became after Mary's death. John was an idiot. He was a hero, yeah. He loved Dean and Sam with all his broken heart, yeah. But, he wasn't the guy they made him out to be.

Sam was more than aware of this. It might've been the blinders he put on, or it might've been that John deteriorated immediately after Mary's death. And Sam was only 4 months old at the time, so his memories of heroic John are long gone. He only remembers the sweet smell of his mother's perfume. And that is a stretch at best.

Dean is Sam's own hero, even if every other hunter thinks the guy is a rookie with only enough talent to fill a sippy cup. Sam's life fell into Dean's hands just as the bottle of liquor fell into John's, and now Dean is Sam's world. They make quite a pair: the broken Winchester boys.

Both depend on the other. It's an odd dynamic, but somehow it seems to fit.

Sam is only sixteen, so the kid stays at home during the hunts. But, Dean prowls like a vampire: ready to strike and kill those that wronged him. He's smarter, faster, stronger than any other hunter was at his age. He's fucking buffy with a knife. The thing is the only known killer of witches, something about the metals in the blade. Doesn't matter, as long as the son-of-a-bitch don't get back up.

Dean slinks along behind the house, nose to the wall as he eyes the blue trim it's got. Whatever made this idiot family decide to pick that color must've been a demon, it looks like piss. He sniffs sharply, trying to refocus on the witch around the corner.

She's got long hair and eyes that make him rethink which side he's joined. But, Sam said the bitch killed 3 townspeople in just a week, so she's gotta go.

He steps from the building, prepared to strike as he rises the knife above his head and lurches forward... only to drop unconscious a second later. A man steps out from behind him, smirking something vicious. "Idiot humans... Never learn do they?"

The woman, Bela, grins back. "This one's so pretty though, don't ya think we could keep him? Oh, I do want a pet!"

So, maybe Dean isn't as grand at being a hunter as Sam says? Yeah, so what? He's still twice the hunter John was, and that's a fact. He's also ten times the hunter some guy named Gordon tries to be, but that's a story for another time, ya feel me?

Anyway, Castiel stumbles upon the scene like any other witch hunter: with a look of sure confusion, cause what the hell? This was his case, not that Winchester rookie's! And aw hell no, he does not need this shit now. But, Dean forced his hand when he underestimated the pair of witches, so now Castiel is kicking ass and taking names.

Thirty minutes later, Castiel slaps the man awake.

And oh yeah, Castiel is just this experienced loner hunter. Nobody really likes him because he's too honest and blunt. He tells it how it is, and unfortunately, this tactic doesn't really allow room for friends. But, he's met Dean and Sam once or twice, and the pair are much obviously nicer to him than the dickheads he encounters on a daily.

Castiel was abandoned by his parents when he turned eighteen, cause it turned out he liked it up the ass, and _"good Christians don't believe in such a sin. You understand why we're doing this then, don't you, sweetie?"_ Castiel has blue eyes that kind of sparkle and smoulder when he stares too long, which basically... is all the time, or at least whenever a pretty man is near-by. He also wears this stupid trench coat that always ends up in the way, but he likes the feel of it, so there we are.

"What the shit-!" Dean wakes with a start, sitting up abruptly and nearly knocking heads with Castiel in the process, "what the-? Cas?!"

"Yes, hello, Dean." Castiel sits back against the door, staring at Dean intensely enough to have the slightly younger man twitch with anxiety. "Nice going with the witches back there."

"Hey! I didn't know there were two! Not my fault that-"

"Oh it's not your fault that you _once again_ underestimated a witch? You do know that I am the_ rare _exception to the fact that hunters do not save other hunters." The look Cas gives him is patronizing, and makes Dean snarl aggressively. "I won't always be here to rescue you."

"I don't need you rescuing me! Ya hear that?" Dean stands, fists raised against his hips as he glares something fierce. He might just be overcompensating for the way his eyes keep straying to Castiel's chapped lips, but he thinks he's right to rise to the bait. That asshat hunter can't go around insulting his pride all day!

Castiel stares up at him from his place on the floor, seeing the way Dean's green eyes flicker emotions like a dying light bulb. He allows a soft grin to dig into his lips, and upturns his face, shifting to bring Dean more into view. "That so?"

"Hell yes, 'that's so!' I could'a handled this!"

Castiel stifles the laugh that bubbles up in his throat, fearing he'll scare the man off. "Seemed it when I stumbled onto the scene. Just an unconscious kid alone with two witches? Yeah, you were totally on top of the situation."

"I'm not a kid." Dean grunts, voice low with rage.

Castiel finally stands, his posture leaking authority as he holds his two extra inches over Dean like a trophy. "And I'm not a cock-sucking faggot." He hisses against Dean's earlobe before turning on his heel.

"Hey! Wait!"

Cas pauses a second, long enough for the twenty-five year old to catch up with his strides. "What d'you want, Dean?"

Dean's green eyes are so bright when they lock onto his own, "you're not as bad as you make yourself out to be, Cas." He whispers, voice dangerously emotional. If he knew better, Cas would say Dean was giving him some sort of compliment. But, that would make them something like friends, and Castiel knows for bloody-fucking-sure that Dean isn't offering up friendship.

That'd be the day.

Castiel hisses, turning away, "and you're not as straight as you wanna be, now are ya, kid?"

The bitterness that leaks into his tone is unintentional, but he'll think on it later when he's avoiding nightmares. Sleep doesn't come easy to the damned. "See ya round, Dean!" He calls over his shoulder, not once turning to the young Winchester. The kid's probably got some bitchface plastered over the lust he saw in his eyes.

Dean isn't hiding anything, that's for sure.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two. I actually really like this Cas; I'll have to write endverse!Castiel more often. He's a fucking badass and I'm supremely turned on by his ways. Ya know, whatever.**

**This literally took 7 years to write. I've been working on it since I posted the first chapter, and writing like a paragraph everytime I'm online. I have had creativity for this! Aparently it'll have a Part Three though.**

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**There Be Witches  
Part Two**

Sam doesn't see Dean come through the front door, so much as hear him. There's stomping, swearing, and was that a chair overturning? Man, whatever went down at that witch hunt has got the jerk worked up. "Dean?" He calls from upstairs, "you okay, dude?"

"Yeah, Sammy! Fine as fucking dandies or whatever."

Sam rolls his eyes, moving to the top of the stairs to watch his brother throw a mild fit. "What happened?"

Dean's eyes are intense, his left cheek is bleeding from some kind of blow, but it's not serious. He's also covered in dirt, Sam notices. Seems the hunt went sour. "Fucking dickwad. Think he's so smart when he knows nothing. _Nothing_!" Dean is so oblivious to the way his whispering.. isn't exactly whispering.

"Dean, ya know I can hear you, right? What happened?" Sam persists, moving directly into Dean's path to block the guy from moving past him.

Dean was the straightest kid you ever did meet. I mean, he had a tattoo, right? That made him straight. Oh, yeah, did I mention that Dean is a fucking asshole about homosexuals? Like, he's not homophobic, and he let's 'em be. He just has no concept of what makes someone gay.

And then Dean spoke, "Cas said I wasn't as straight as I play myself to be."

Silence fell over the hollowed out cabin. Daylight leaked through the curtains but just barely, the stream of light reached only the second step in the hallway. Sam's hair tickles his shoulder, which he now realizes is bear. Was it weird that he had run out of bed to see his brother? Forgetting even a shirt? That was beside the point which, as he remembers, forces a bubble of laughter to his throat. He erupts just as the birds fly from their nest to visit the puddle near their doorstep.

Dean sneers back, sinking into the couch as he flops upon the innocent piece of furniture. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, bitch."

Sam mutters something like "jerk" under his breath, but continues to laugh apart from the small interruption. And with that, Dean stomps his way up the stairs and lets out an obnoxious groan as he enters his bedroom for a possible eternity.

The eternity ended up being about 3 days.

3 days in which the Winchester boys went without food, cause Dean had no witchy mojo to distribute to the street vendors. And the street vendors were their main source of money while Sam was up in school.

Sam always made sure to push something lame under Dean's door, leaving a glass of water with the slice of bread or whatever remained of their meager food rations. Dean accepted the food, but never once showed his face, leaving Sam to wonder whether it was actually Dean in there.

On the final day of Dean's slump, Sam came across none other than Castiel himself.

"Dean hasn't been out, I see."

Sam jumped, turning quickly to face the voice speaking to him. To say he was surprised to see the lone hunter was an understatement. "Castiel?" He asked, shock written in his dark eyes.

"You did not answer my question."

"To be fair," Sam said, almost smiling but catching himself at the last moment, "you never phrased it like a question."

A smirk ghosted across Castiel's lips, "ah. That I did not."

"But, you're right."

"I knew I was. Is there a reason he's moping?"

Sam snickered under his breath, eyeing the gun under the man's right arm. "I suppose it might be because you insulted his masculinity."

"Insinuating that he is gay should not be an insult to his masculinity-"

"Tell him that." And with the final word, Sam turned on his heel and vanished into the tall forest. Castiel was left without words, he had no idea the idiot would take his snide remark to heart in such a way.

"I saw that Castiel guy today."

Dean sat up in bed, nearly colliding heads in the process, "what?" He hissed, his face scrunched up as if he couldn't decide between a smile and a glare.

"You heard me," Sam said, sitting down next to his brother.

Dean wouldn't look at him, instead maintaining eye contact with the wall. He stared ahead like the wall was talking to him, and not his dorky little brother six inches to his left. "Dean." The idiot whispered, nudging his shoulder to catch his eye.

Dean sighed dramatically and flopped back down, "what'd he say?"

"He said," Sam paused, not quite knowing how to relay the weird conversation to Dean. "that he didn't intend to insult your masculinity."

"My masculinity?"

"Well, I sorta mentioned that you felt emasculated."

"Oh, awesome." Dean muttered into his pillow, thumping his head into the decidedly soft object.

Sam nodded to himself, his fingers twitching to steal Dean's pillow and force him into sunlight. Suddenly, Dean stood: "I'm gonna talk to him."

"What?"

"I'm gonna confront him! Asshole can't go around calling me gay and get away with it!"

Sam's eyes widened and he grasped Dean's forearm, "wait, Dean! Gay isn't an insult."

"Well, it's not a compliment either," he declared, before storming out of the room.


End file.
